2 Stars
I enjoy
books which illuminate other cultures so I really looked forward to reading
this book. Though it does indeed provide
details about Iranian culture, it does so in a narrative that I can only
describe as awkward and unsophisticated.
Noor,
recently divorced, returns to Iran after a 30-year absence to visit her aging
father Zod. Noor is accompanied by her
recalcitrant teenaged daughter Lily. In
Tehran, Zod continues to run a restaurant, Café Leila, which
is a neighbourhood gathering place started years earlier by his parents. Noor is returning home but Lily has
difficulty adjusting to life in Iran.
There are
numerous flashbacks. The reader learns
about the emigration of Zod’s parents from Russia; Zod’s studies in Paris and
his marriage to Pari; Pari’s death; Noor’s life in California and her marriage
and divorce. There are even flashbacks
describing the lives of the employees at the café.
The story
is narrated from multiple perspectives:
Zod, Pari, Noor, Lily, Lily’s father, Noor’s brother, Zod’s estranged
brother, Zod’s sister-in-law, the café’s errand
boy, etc. The author obviously wanted to
create well-rounded characters, but the effect is a lack of focus.
The impression is that
the author didn’t know whom to focus on so she put a spotlight on
everyone. For example, it is not
necessary to go on and on about Karim’s becoming besotted with Lily. We are told that he can’t stop staring at her
and that he can’t concentrate at school and that he keeps repeating her name to
himself and that he gets her a kitten and that he will do anything for her and
. . . Karim is a minor character and
there seems little purpose to being repeatedly told that he is in love with
Lily. For all the references to him,
Karim remains a flat character.
Zod is a major
character but he is not believable. He
is just too good to be true. He cares
about everyone, is wise, is unfailingly optimistic, and is loved by everyone. He is given the homage “never seen but for
martyrs and mullahs”?! His behaviour,
however, is inconsistent. He tells his
daughter to visit him and to bring Lily with her: “Pack a bag for you and Lily and come visit
your old father” but then he scolds her:
“You brought Lily into danger and discomfort . . .” He even asks, “What lesson did Noor aim to
teach by bringing her here?”
There is much telling
and little showing in the book. Noor is
supposed to be a dynamic character who grows, but we are only told that she grows. We are given a thorough description of her
flaws: “Blinded by her troubles, unable
to raise her head, to exert herself, clinging to the exaggerated memories of
her youth. When had this girl, who
defied them in childhood, who never got her way fast enough, grown timid and
undemanding, so frustratingly passive in the face of humiliation? Why did she think herself so undeserving of
love, merely enduring life like a pebble in her shoe and side stepping people’s
shortcomings, talking as though she
had caused Nelson’s infidelity – a watchfulness grown inward, doubtful and wary
of her own child even.” Her parenting
is thoroughly criticized: “For too long
Noor had auditioned for motherhood, fun mom one day to authoritarian the next,
careening from affectionate to cool, indulgent to critical, hands-off to
hovering, and if Nelson was the arbiter, the easygoing dad, there to keep the
peace and make their meals festive, it only heightened the pitch of her
pendulum. It was exhausting being Noor,
but she meant well. She always had meant
well.”
Then we are told that
Noor’s “reaching out to Nelson, recognizing she couldn’t sway Lily without him,
was a big step for her” and “Noor eventually came to learn that we see what we
want to see.” We don’t see her learning
these lessons; we are told she has these insights. Noor’s only observation about her own
behaviour is that she has taught her daughter to be afraid: “’all I’ve ever done is show you how to be
afraid.’” Of course Lily’s behaviour
with Karim does not seem like that of someone who is afraid. Her father, in fact, loves her because “she
could not be depended upon to comply with form.
Her bold, brutal honesty was what he admired.” And Noor’s decision at the end suggests she
is still auditioning for motherhood so there is little growth in her
character.
One of the major techniques
of showing is dialogue. This novel has
little dialogue and certainly no extended conversations that would reveal
character. The dialogue that is included
seems to serve little purpose. For
instance, a discussion about the ingredients in piroshkies is hardly revealing;
Noor asks her father, “’Didn’t you used to put cream in the spinach filling?’”
and Zod answers, “’Mm. And sometimes
hard-boiled eggs.’”
There are intrusive
statements and comments throughout. In
case the reader wouldn’t realize it, he/she is told “Neither Lily nor Karim
could be expected to understand a world where such things were possible, that
an innocent girl would be burned alive for refusing a ludicrous marriage
proposal.” The narrator even addresses
the reader: “Maybe if you’ve lived as
long as he had, you knew all too well that looking for blame was futile, that
you need not go back and ask for explanations.”
And the tone can be downright preachy:
“Because if our parents didn’t exalt us, we spend our adult lives blaming
them – for not doing this, and not doing that, not being ‘supportive,’ not
making an appearance at our first recital, being overprotective or aloof,
damaging our self-esteem. Yet at our
best or worst, who sees everything? Who
knows us best? Who waits and waits to
see what we yet may be? Then one day
they’re gone and it’s just you, and there’s nothing left to squeeze, no one to
blame for the dismay over the course your life has taken.”
As I mentioned at the
beginning, I love books that highlight other cultures. The problem with this book is that it sounds
like an essay at times: “The cuisine of
Northern Iran, overlooked and underrated, is unlike most Persian food in that
it’s as unfussy and lighthearted as the people from that region.” And “It’s customary in Iran for a family
member to wash the body of the deceased; there are no undertakers and no
viewings, burial is swift.” We are told
that Noor’s sister-in-law “was incapable of tarof
(a custom of self-deference exclusive to Iranians)” and then the reader is
given several examples of her lack of decorum.
Since this sister-in-law never appears in the novel, is the purpose of
this paragraph just to discuss an Iranian custom? And the descriptions of food go on and
on: “He filled the pockets not just with
beef and onions, but peach jam, saffron rice pudding, smoked sturgeon, potatoes
and dill, cabbage and caraway apples, duck confit and chopped orange peel . . .”
The author has
included some Farsi to add local colour but, again, the translations are
awkwardly inserted in parentheses immediately afterwards: “’Agha
(Mr.) Nejad, how are you feeling?’” A
reader shouldn’t have to be told that tarof
means self-deference when the subsequent sentence (“She spoke frankly and
without decorum”) indicates its meaning.
And would a person actually use a conjunction, and only a conjunction,
in another language: “’It’s been a good
adventure for her, and you, pero (but) –‘” When Lily asks Karim, who speaks little or
no English, “’How do you say brother?’” he understands her question and
immediately replies, “’Baradar’”?
I fear I have been
rather harsh in my review, but I honestly find little to recommend this
book. I read an eARC so perhaps changes
will be made.
Note: I received an eARC of the book from the publisher via NetGalley.
